


healing words

by mikharlow



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: (what a fun tag), AU where Lukas goes around valentia post war just trying to feel something n he meets conrad, Falling In Love, M/M, Recovery, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-06 10:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15192377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikharlow/pseuds/mikharlow
Summary: Lukas finally finds what he's been looking for, and is terrified he'll lose him.





	1. flostym, pegastym

**Author's Note:**

> working title: "thanks jona"  
> no seriously go thank @conradluvr69 on twitter for their thread that came into my house, ate my amiibo and called me a bitch. this is obviously marked unfinished but i go on holiday soon and i had to get this chapter out before i left and was without internet h
> 
> i officially own half of the lukrad tag on here so y'alls my bitches now

He can’t remember what happened last night. He can’t even remember what day of the week it is. Everything is as blurry in his memory as it his before his eyes as he half-wakes up in a bed, still warm on the side that had been deserted by whoever had their hands on him the night before. As he sits up to orient himself, his shoulder twists painfully, an echo of something he’d would rather stay forgotten. He tugs on clothes that he doesn’t remember removing, and the fabric against his skin doesn’t feel real. Nothing’s felt real in a while, actually. It’s hard to stay grounded in reality when you don’t feel like you belong anywhere.

 

The morning is too bright when he stumbles outside -- he assumes it’s morning, but it could be any time of day -- and he has to shield his eyes with an unsteady hand. Upon seeing it, he faintly remembers the feeling of slamming it into a jaw or two, but that might have been last week, or the week before. The days tend to bleed together often.

 

The tired veteran finds his way home, somehow, and is met by too much noise and colour for a hungover man to handle.

 

“Python, this is  _ serious _ . Stop treating it like something trivial!”

 

“Listen, I’m not. Lukas is an adult, Fors. You know he can make his own decisions.”

 

“This is the fourth night  _ this week, _ Python! Clearly, he can’t!”

 

Lukas keeps his eyes on the floor between his feet, like a child being berated by his parents, listening to the argument become white noise. His head is still swimming, his thoughts smell like stale beer sloshing around in a tankard. He doesn’t realise he’s closed his eyes until Forsyth is shaking him and telling him to open them.

 

“Lukas, you haven’t said a single word since you came back. How are you feeling?”

 

Lukas lets out a dry chuckle.  _ No need to ask what happened. I suppose it’s obvious _ . “I’m fine.”

 

Python sighs. “We all know that’s pegasus shit, buddy. And don’t,” he adds, holding up a hand towards Forsyth, “comment on my language, please, Mother. I’ve got shit to say to this guy.”

 

Forsyth closes his mouth, agitated. Python rubs his eyes for a second, then gestures to Lukas. 

 

“Listen. All of this?” says Python. “It’s not good for you. You can’t keep doing this. It’s tearing you apart.”

 

Lukas nods. He’s not an idiot-- he knows this, and he knows what he’s doing. Because maybe if he tears himself apart, he’ll find something in there at rock bottom. He’s not sure when that stopped being a mantra and started being an excuse, but it’s what he’s been clinging to night after night.

 

“So just listen. I’m not your fuckin’ parent. I’m not gonna ground you, or give you a curfew, but damn it, Lukas, you’re my friend. And I’m not gonna watch you drink yourself into the wrong fight at the wrong bar that ends your life five decades too soon.”

 

“I thought you said I could make my own decisions.” Lukas slurs. Even his voice doesn’t belong to him anymore.

 

“I did.” Python crouches down in front of him, and Lukas can see his face. It’s one of his serious faces, of which there is only the one. It’s rare to see him genuinely concerned about anything. It sobers him a little. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna try help you anyway.”

 

Lukas makes a noise, unsure what to say.

 

“Look. I have an idea to get you started. Fors, when’s the princess ball?” 

 

Forsyth, who looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, stutters. “Uh-- um, the, the princess ball?”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

He sighs. “If you mean the anniversary ball, it’s in a fortnight.”

 

“Perfect.” He turns back to Lukas. “In a fortnight, we’re gonna take you to this fancy gathering, where all our old buddies and pals are gonna be. Maybe you can reminisce with them about the good ol’ days, since you’re clearly missing the battlefield. Maybe you can make some genuine connections with people. Gods, maybe you’ll even enjoy yourself. Either way, in two weeks, you’re gonna clean up and attend this stupid fuckin’ event with us.”

 

Lukas hears himself agree.

 

* * *

 

 

Lukas threads his hands through his hair as he washes out a week’s worth of muck. The water creates rivers that flow down his face and into his eyes and mouth, giving him a taste of his own unhygienic practices. It’s not that he avoids bathing. He just can’t bring himself to do it most days. He likes the smell of blood, or maybe he’s just become so accustomed to it that it’s a part of himself. What was the point in bathing, anyways. He didn’t have anyone to impress. 

 

But Forsyth had said otherwise, as he had handed him some fresh clothes and a bar of soap and sent him to change. The collar feels too tight on, and he hopes that there’s an opportunity for an early escape. But there will be free booze, and maybe he’d find someone to have a nice conversation with. Or maybe he’d be in a corner alone for it all— equally probable, if not more so.

 

Lukas feels stuffy as soon as the lights hit him when he steps foot into the large hall. He’s immediately overwhelmed by the chatter of a hundred people, more than he could stomach. It’s too much too fast, and Python notices this. He claps Lukas’ back, giving him a wistful smile. 

 

“I’m not excellent at this, either.” he whispers. “We both know Forsyth’s the more outgoing one.”

 

As if on cue, Forsyth makes a beeline for where he sees who Lukas recognises as Clive. He’s talking to an older gentlemen that Lukas hasn’t seen before, and the absence of Mathilda at his side doesn’t surprise him.

 

Python, seeing this, scoffs. “Saw that one coming.”

 

It doesn’t take long for Lukas to find himself with a glass of scented wine in his hand, nor does it take him long to down it all and go in search of another. He holds brief conversation with a few recruits that remember him from the Deliverance (he hopes that they didn’t think too highly of him, lest they be disappointed) and is asked to dance by a fair few, all of whom he declines as politely as possible. In the back of his mind, he’s wondering how best to rid himself of the agitated feeling in his stomach. He needs to throw a punch, not be cooped up in a ballroom. Yeah, that’s what he needs. Maybe that will help. 

 

* * *

 

 

The crowd starts to thin out as people begin find dance partners. And the bustle of people moving about parts the way to a rather deserted corner of the hall, where only a few people are left still milling about. And one who is sitting alone, and has his head in a book, of all things.

 

Lukas pauses. He watches the man as he follows the text to the bottom of the page, smiling at perhaps a charming piece of dialogue or prose, then uses delicate fingers to turn to the next. The light from a nearby sconce gives his hair a halo of sorts, lighting up half of his face and leaving the rest in subtle shade. A nearby patron barks laughter that makes Lukas wince, but the man is undisturbed; he lets out a small laugh to himself as he reads, one that Lukas wishes he could have heard. 

 

Something strikes a chord within him. He isn’t sure what, exactly — perhaps it’s the escapism he yearns for being portrayed so excellently in his stranger — but he grasps it, holds on to it, tries desperately to understand it. What best describes this scene before him, what in this picture-frame view is the something he’s been searching for? And then, it comes to him. 

 

_ Peace _ . 

 

Lukas is so overwhelmed that he feels his glass begin to slip from his grip. Peace.  _ Of course.  _ He can see it in every detail. The well kept, gently tousled hair and soft features spoke of a gentleness that one would have less luck finding nowadays than a tamed necrodragon, and his heart wishes for it-- no, it  _ aches _ for it. The voices surrounding him melt away, as does the tension that had been wrapping itself around him. He latches onto his stranger, his perfect stranger, and Lukas has never felt such a powerful emotion in his life. It’s desire, and it’s hope, and it’s longing, and overwhelming sadness, a despair that wracks him and makes him question why he had been chasing the wrong thing for so long. And he knows without a shadow of a doubt that the the thing he should have been chasing all along was right in front of him, reading a book by himself and oblivious to the epiphany he has evoked and the world he has changed.

 

And Lukas finds himself moving again, one step after another, slowly speeding up as he approaches this man. A part of him is loathe to disturb him, but it’s fought down by his desperation to talk to him, to become part of this elusive tranquility. His heart is racing, faster than it ever had been in a bar fight he started up just to feel something, anything. Nothing had mattered to him more than this.

 

But as he comes within reach, he stops, and hesitates. Anxiety kicks in --  he can’t just storm up to a complete stranger and blurt out… what? What would he even say? Any conversation starters he might have known escape him.

 

Behind him, a loud cheer erupts from the crowd, freezing him even more in place. And whether it’s the ghost of the Mother herself, or just the pure, merciful Lady Luck, it gains the attention of the stranger, who lifts his head on instinct. And his eyes land on Lukas, whose hand is still partially outstretched, and the confusion on his face turns to a smile.

 

He raises a hand and waves to him.

 

Lukas blinks, daring to believe that the gesture was meant for him, pushing down the doubt that tells him to run. Taking this chance afforded to him by some higher power, he greets his stranger with a small wave and a nervous smile.

 

He opens his mouth, forgets words for a moment, then speaks. “Good evening, sir. I couldn’t help but notice you… you looked awfully engrossed in that book of yours, and I was… curious as to the title. ...My apologies if I’ve bothered you.”

 

He smiles. “It’s no bother to me.” He lifts the book and tilts the cover towards him. The lettering glints gold. “ _ ‘The Flirt and the Faithful’ _ . A more recent novel by a favourite author and scholar of mine.”

 

Lukas finds himself smiling back, if a little out of breath. “I must admit, I do love a good book.” he says. “It’s been awhile since I’ve read one, though. Do you... have any recommendations?”

 

The man lights up at the invitation to discuss literature, and it hits Lukas that he is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. Perhaps that was just the wine making such strong statements for him, but there’s no denying the beauty in him. He carries a kind of softness with him, but is in no way feeble. Kindness brings with it its own power, and this man has it in abundance. He offers Lukas a seat, which he takes, and begins to recount some of his favourite works. Lukas can’t help but be enamored by him. He’s quite animated when he talks, but not boisterous and bold like Forsyth can be. It’s more quiet gestures, with passion leaking into his speech.

 

He interrupts himself a while later while going through a brief summary of a plot to a fiction novel, chiding himself. “Oh, where have my manners gone? My apologies -- I completely forgot to introduce myself!” He holds out a hand. “My name is Conrad. I pursue work as a civil servant, living here in the castle.”

 

_ Conrad.  _ Familiar, as if he had heard it in a storybook once, or maybe a dream. He shakes Conrad’s hand, heart going off at the contact. “My name is Lukas. It’s…” He swallows. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Conrad.”

 

“And you, Lukas.” 

 

_ Oh, _ he loves how his name sounds in Conrad’s voice. He’s hesitant to draw back his hand, liking the warmth of it far too much.

 

“You know,” begins Conrad, running his fingers over the cover of his book. “most of the people here are quite… one-note. But you’re… different.” He looks up at Lukas. “You look like you have a story to tell.”

 

It’s not something that should shake Lukas the way it does. Maybe it’s because, for the first time in the longest time, a stranger has seen more in him than someone that will entertain them for a night. Conrad’s gaze has his face warm, and he glances away. “Perhaps a story for another time.”

 

Conrad hums. “Another time, eh… so I will be seeing you again?”

 

Lukas flushes. He didn’t mean it like that. His throat cracks when he tries to refute, coming out as an embarrassing noise. His collar has never felt tighter.

 

Conrad chuckles and sets a hand on his shoulder. “No need to fluster, it’s alright. Personally, I’d love to meet you again.”

 

“...As would I.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lukas leaves that night torn.

 

Conrad is addictive. He had Lukas clinging to every word from his mouth, making witty remarks in attempts to see his stunning smile and bright laughter. He was everything Lukas needed, wrapped up in an angel of a man.

 

And yet, when he lays in bed watching the sunrise leak through his window, he feels an insurmountable amount of fear. He hasn’t held a good romantic relationship in his life --  he has absolutely no idea what he’s going to do when he sees Conrad again.  _ If _ he sees Conrad again. His mind races with every single way he could possibly fuck this up for himself. He couldn’t bear to lose the only light of hope in his life because of something he did wrong. And Conrad doesn’t know about him, about how he’s been for the past year. He deserves more than what Lukas is and has been. He’d feel awful about standing him up, but it would be for the best.

 

Lukas sighs, turning over in his empty bed, pondering his dilemma.

 

Oh, how quickly a lost and lonely man can fall in love with a stranger.


	2. avistym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY got ch2 up! i hope you all enjoy this and haven't forgotten about me yet <3

When he wakes up in the morning, it’s the first time Lukas has felt something to look forward to. It’s such a refreshing feeling, to wake up with someone on your mind. 

 

He had fallen asleep before he could reach a decision, but as he rises out of bed, he knows one thing for certain: there’s no way that he could live the rest of his life without seeing Conrad again, at least once. The only problem was  _ when— _ and, actually,  _ how. _

 

Lukas’ actions slow as he realises that he hadn’t actually made any concrete plans. He doesn’t know where Conrad likes to go or where he is most likely to be, he doesn’t know what days he works and what days he has to himself. The only clue he has is… the castle. But he couldn’t exactly waltz in there and demand to see him, could he?

 

With a sigh he collapses back onto his bed. 

 

By the time he pulls himself out of his room in search of a meal, the sun is high in the sky and glaring through the windows, bleaching the floorboards from oak to silver birch. It’s probably more of a lunch time, but this is when Lukas chooses to break his fast. 

 

He grabs an orange, and finds himself staring at it for a minute and recalling softly curled hair of the same shade. There’s movement to his left and he hears Python yawn.

 

“Mornin’.”

 

Lukas waves absentmindedly. “Hi.”

 

Python’s footsteps stop, and then backtrack. Lukas sees him lean backwards against the counter out of his periphery, and meets his eye. 

 

“What’s up with you today?” asks Python. He has an eyebrow raised. “You actually looked happy for a moment there.”

 

Lukas hesitates. “It’s… nothing much.” he says. “....Thank you for last night.”

 

Python gives him a lopsided smile. “I told you it’d be good for ya. Although, I didn’t see you much after we arrived. Where’d ya disappear off to?”

 

“I held polite conversation.”

 

He huffs. “That can’t be all you did, if you’re thanking me for it.”

 

Lukas shakes his head, and starts to peel his orange. “I’m being honest. I talked most of the night. Albeit with the one man, but…”

 

Python gasps, purposefully dramatic. “There it is again!”

 

When he receives a quizzical look for his outburst, he laughs a little and explains. “That look. He must have been a hell of a man to make you look like that.”

 

_ Ah.  _ He turns his head away. “I can’t fault your deductions. He… he was.”

 

His friend pushes off the counter. “Tell me about him.”

 

“What would you like to know?”

 

“His name would be a good place to start.”

 

Lukas pops a segment of the orange into his mouth and thinks as he chews, though it doesn’t take long at all for last night’s memories to resurface. The wine gave everything a rosy tint, but the events themselves were clear as day. “His name is Conrad. He works as a civil servant, I think. He loves books, and talking about them.”

 

“Conrad?” says Python. “Like, the prince?”

 

Lukas pauses. “...Prince?”

 

Python rolls his eyes. “Oh, I forgot you’ve been living under a rock. Turns out Celica’s ‘lost’ brother wasn’t dead after all, and now he works for the kingdom. Still, I’m surprised you’ve never heard of Prince Conrad before.”

 

Were he less awake, he would have dropped his fruit, although it’s still a close call. Conrad… is a prince. If he thought his odds of finding happiness were low before, well…

 

“Woah, you good, buddy?” Python’s serious, all of a sudden. Lukas assures him of his wellbeing, and wanders back to his room after a breakfast in shared silence.

 

* * *

 

 

After what was basically house arrest (Python may not have enforced it, but Forsyth sure did), Lukas feels like drinking more than ever, but knowing his friends’ concern laid a guilty weight on his back that he carried with him as he walked past the bar on the corner, one that he hadn’t been banned from yet. His mind is dark static as he walks aimlessly through town. Well, he has an aim, but it might as well be a child’s dream, so unreachable it feels.

 

He earns a few looks from various townsfolk that he had grown somewhat accustomed to. The worst thing is that he can’t even find it in himself to care anymore. He had fucked up his reputation, and now he’s paying the price. 

 

_ That’s right, I have a reputation.  _

 

The thought brings him a sense of unease. Why should he care? There’s a nagging at the back of his mind, and when he digs deep, it hits him. This time he had preceded his reputation, but what if word gets to Conrad? He recalls his revelation of the night before. Peace. Peace, in Conrad and his quiet energy. And finds himself wondering if he truly deserves such a thing.

 

He goes home sober and nauseous.

 

* * *

 

 

That was the first of many excursions he had taken by himself. Every time he would leave, roll about in his own restless thoughts for a few hours, form some kind of resolve, set eyes on the castle, and turn tail and run. To his credit, he has yet to fall into his old... hobby... but he feels his resolve slipping with each passing day. 

 

The amount of time he had been able to loiter around the castle had increased as time went on, however, and after a week of his cowardly, indecisive routine, he’s leaning against a wall and counting all the windows he can see. Each one sparkles as light glances off them and into his eyes, and he has to squint a little.

 

“...well, I might be able…”

 

Lukas snaps to attention at the sound of a distant voice. He feels himself well up with anxiety, fight or flight response kicking in. Irrationally. He’s yet to be caught, although there really wasn’t anything about his actions that was against some sort of rules. He might be mistaken for a thief, scoping out his next heist, in which case they’d be disappointed.

 

He shrinks against the wall as the voice grows louder. He stalls. It’s familiar. It’s also solitary, so they’re talking to themself, unless their partner has nothing to input into the conversation.

 

“...Ah, that’s right, I’ve to inform Sir Clive…”

 

_ Clive? _

 

“...and then I can finally…”

 

The voice sighs. “Conrad, you’ve got so much on your plate.”

 

Lukas completely freezes.

 

He’s not ready.

 

But isn’t this why he’s come? To see him?

 

He’s still not made up his mind. 

 

He needs to leave.

 

He plants a foot forward.

 

“...Hello?”

 

_ Shit _ .

 

Lukas’s heart races as he turns around. 

 

Conrad’s face, once confused, turns to a bright smile, brighter to Lukas than the sun which backlights him. He’s wearing the casual robes of a scholar, in light colours save for a dark belt. A large tome rests in his hand, which is smudged with ink around the fingertips. 

 

“Lukas!” he says, and he’s just as he remembers him. His eyes are so warm, and Lukas is catching his breath when he asks “I didn’t realise it was you.”

 

“...A-ah, Conrad--” He stops himself and clears his throat. “I mean, ah, Prince Conrad, I’m s-sorry if im disrupting you.”

 

Conrad waves a hand. “Not at all. I was just talking with myself. And away with the titles. We’re friends, are we not?”

 

_ Friends.  _ He gives him his own shaky smile. “I’d like to think so.”

 

Conrad’s smile falters. “I’m sorry I never gave you means of contact --  I was devastated when I realised my error. I’m just glad the gods saw fit for us to meet again.”

 

Lukas prays he doesn’t look as red as he feels. “I’m sorry too. I was my fault as well.”

 

“Well, no use worrying now.” says Conrad. “Would you like to come inside, perhaps? It’s much easier to talk over a table than outside, don’t you think?”

 

This wasn’t what Lukas had intended, but  _ something _ is smiling down on him today. The demons on his shoulders spill doubt and insecurity into his ears, and he hesitates. 

 

But he looks at Conrad again. He  _ sees _ him, and then there’s  _ only _ him. And it might as well have been some sort of spell, cause everything leaves him in that moment except the memory Conrad’s hand on his shoulder and an ache to feel him again.

 

“...Absolutely.”

 

He laughs lightly. “Well, then. Shall we go?”


End file.
